


Hunting The Hare

by xahra99



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Married Couple, Sexy Times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-04
Updated: 2014-08-04
Packaged: 2018-02-11 17:38:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2077086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xahra99/pseuds/xahra99
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Catelyn learns that hunting hares means something different in the North. Written for the RarePairFest 2014 for etoilecourageuse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hunting The Hare

**Author's Note:**

  * For [etoilecourageuse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/etoilecourageuse/gifts).



“Have you hunted hare before, my lady?” asked Maester Luwin.

Catelyn shook her head. “We hunt deer in the South.”

“The hunting's fine in these hills,” Luwin agreed. ”But nobody would think less of you if you took a guard.”

She glanced over at Ned as he swung up on his horse beside her. “My husband will take care of me.”

“That I will,” Ned agreed.

“Is it dangerous here?” Catelyn asked him. Could dragons fly so far? “The Targaryens-”

“There's no Targaryens here, my lady.” Ned said. “These are Stark lands. There's not a man here who'd raise a finger to aid those southern bastards. We've only the weather and the wildlings to contend with.” He spoke as if neither the notoriously unpredictable Northern weather nor the equally unpredictable wildlings concerned him. Catelyn blessed his solid fortitude.

“I am glad to hear it,” she said politely. “We will not be long.”

Somebody sniggered. Catelyn turned to stare at her husband, but Ned's face was a study in seriousness. “We might be longer than you'd think,” he said.

“Then I wish you good hunting, my lord.” Maester Luwin's expression was concerned, but during three days' brief acquaintance Catelyn had never seen him look otherwise. “My lady.”

Ned nodded. Catelyn ducked her head. She had barely straightened when Ned gave his horse its head. “Hiya!”

Catelyn dug her heels into the flanks of her mount and followed Ned through the gates of Winterfell. Her long braid bounced against her back. She saw a flash of tan and brindle fur from the corner of her eye as the stable-lads loosed the hounds.

They cantered up the razorback ridge of the fells. Catelyn's grey mare caught Ned's bay before they crested the summit. She reined in her horse as the hounds streaked past, jaws wide and tongues lolling. “Do they have names?” she asked.

Ned whistled. The dogs gazed at him with pricked ears, their breath frosting in the air as they waited. “Aye. The roan is Beauty, and the one over there, he's Red Rake.”

“Are they fine hunters?”

“The best in the North,” Ned replied. “But I didn't bring you here to hunt for hares.”

Catelyn raised her eyebrows. Her mare's shoes struck sparks from the stones, and she eased the horse over to some heather where her hooves would find more purchase. Ned halted beside her and they gazed across the heater to the towers of Winterfell. The castle's drum-shaped spires rose from a fog of pearly steam. The mountains behind gave the sky a ragged edge.

“It's beautiful.” Catelyn said.

“It's strong,” Ned said. “Like the North. Strong and proud and larger than all the south combined.” He glanced across at Catelyn. “How do you find it here?”

“Cold.” The word escaped her lips before she could stop it.

“Aye.” He nodded. “But you're strong.” He wheeled his horse and whistled for the dogs. “It's not all cold. There's a place-” He paused as the hounds loped across the heather towards him.“I'll show you.”

They put the castle behind them and rode on, passing peat-stained streams and rocky outcrops on the way to a small tarn. Steam clouded the air over the lake so thickly that at first Catelyn thought the heather was alight. After a moment she realised that the tarn was another of the hot pools for which Winterfell was so renowned.

They guided their horses across the heather to the pool. The water was stained turquoise by glacial dust. The air grew warm as they rode closer. Moisture beaded on the mane of Catelyn's mare. The horses' hooves crushed a swath of emerald grass.

Ned dismounted and helped Catelyn slide down from her horse. She saw the lake's centre bubble like a cauldron, the water stained a turqouise blue by glacial dust.

Catelyn had not expected to find such a beautiful idyll amongst the wild northern fells. She glanced up at Ned, expecting him to extol the virtues of his land, but her husband seemed inclined to silence.

After an age he cleared his throat. “I have something to tell you.”

“Then speak,” she said.

“I'll go south in two days. Meet up with Robert.”

Catelyn felt despair stab deeply. The wound was all the keener for being unexpected. “Must you go so soon?”

“I must obey my king.” Ned said. His voice was neutral, but Catelyn noticed his right hand grasp the leather-wrapped hilt of his greatsword.

“You want to,” she said bitterly.

“Aye. It's the right thing to do, help build a safe land for ourselves and our children.” He turned to face her and slid both his hands over her shoulders. “Cat-”

She had known this was coming, but not so soon. Never so soon. It had been hard to come to the North in the first place. It would be harder without Ned. “I've only just begun to know you-”

“We'll have years,” he said. “You'll be tired of me when we're old.” He moved in close enough to kiss her. “Or I'll be tired out well before then.”

She turned her head away and saw his reflection in the water reach out to cup her chin. His eyes were full of passionate intensity. Ned was a man of few words, but many feelings.

“I'll return to ye,” he promised.

She snatched his wrist away. “How can you promise that? There are so many ranged against us.”

“Then we'd best fight the hardest. I'll not stay me hand when there's fighting to be done.”

“I know you shall. But-”

“I'll carry you with me as I carry this land.”

She stared at him. “What does that mean?”

“ It means I'Il live and die a northman,” he said quietly. “And your husband.”

“If you die-”

”I will come home to you.” His voice was adamant.

“You promise?” she pressed, although she knew any man might fall in battle.

“Aye, I promise.”

The wind rippled the tarn, wreathing them in wisps of steam. Dewdrops soaked Ned's fur collar. Catelyn reached up without thinking to wipe them away and her fingers tousled his hair.

“May I visit the godswood when you're gone?” she asked. Perhaps prayers to Ned's old gods would keep him safe. “I'd like to pray for you.”

“Aye.” he said, “Of course.”

Catelyn nodded. The steam closed in around them. She heard the sound of big heavy bodies moving through the mist as the horses cropped grass, and a soft whine as one of the hounds opened its jaws to yawn. “Ned,” she asked, “why did you bring me here?”

He looked surprised. “You said the North was cold. Thought you'd like someplace to be warm when I was gone.”

Catelyn felt sweat prickle at the roots of her hair. She stripped off her gloves with her teeth and dropped them one by one upon the grass. Then she slipped the scarf from her hair and unfastened her cloak. The fur slid from her shoulders, hem trailing in azure water as the cloak pooled on the ground. “If you are leaving so soon, then we'd best make the most of it.”

Ned's face broke into a reluctant smile that Catelyn found somewhat inappropriate, given the circumstances.

“You find this amusing?”

Ned shook his head. “Here in the North hunting hares means more than it does in the South.”

“Specifically?”

“It's a word we use for courting.”

“Courting?”

“Aye.” He moved in closer and put his arms around her shoulders. “Why'd ye think the lads were laughing?”

Catelyn recalled the conversation in the courtyard. She blushed. “So are we hunting hares now?”

“Not yet,” he said, and kissed her.

She ran her hands across the long, strong muscles of his back. He kirtled her skirts, and she let him, as there was nobody else there to see the indecent length of her leg.

“Lord Stark,” she said breathlessly, “there are no hares beneath my skirts.”

“Are ye sure?”

“Yes,” she said, “But you can check.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Notes: Title from Kate Rusby's song Hunting The Hare. This was a fun couple to write, although I wouldn't have thought of them before the challenge. Thank you for for suggesting it! They're sweet. And married! Hope you like it.


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